


Emergency Contact

by hummdrumlife



Category: 50 Percent Off, Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummdrumlife/pseuds/hummdrumlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ThugSeme!Nagisa explains how he and that sweet track honey first ended up making beautiful music.  If you don't know about 50% Off or the wonder that is Thugisa, educate yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lE8SXJyy1Ic&list=PLJVeF2-zu1kGQ7t7UUPwolNWiQHXQUASs</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Contact

**Author's Note:**

> HEY I just wanted to say, for real, THANKS to everyone who left kudos and the awesome comments below. You guys are the absolute best for encouraging my stupid ass shit. <3 And I'll totally write more as more 50% off appears, so.

Ain't it cute how the fly honeys never know they fly. All putting their perfect noses in books like they wanna keep those fine angles from the world, just waiting for somebody to say, _Hey there, sweetness. Let's make some magic._

Now, I know all about Magic. Easter Dave got a crop up last Sunday and we toasted the good Lord 'till he had grill lines, but there's no high like a hot nerd grinding on your business in the locker room like he's sharpening pencils. So I know what I'm about, and I am _about_ Rei Ryugazaki and his fine little track ass. Trouble is, honey didn't start off knowing he was playing my game. But everybody's playing my game.

I'm Nagisa fuckin' Hazuki.

So I played it smooth, sent him some dick pix on the sly along with a couple rocks I pulled from the back of a truck parked by the cooler, then sidled up during the tentacle porn festival like the finest of fine operators. Hottie looked like the last bus just left him at the stop, so I whispered something sweet in his ear like, "Baby, I would win you that plushy dildo if I thought it'd make you smile," and I could tell he just about melted into butter, cause his cheeks turned the color of my sparklin' eyes. Real shame that the swim dicks turned up just then with some drama about the Great White, because this deal was about to be signed, sealed and delivered.

So then my Hottie was off playing Sherlock to try to keep Jaws away from the Reacharound Twins, and I had to content myself with texting him 'bout how I was hounding after his Baskerville with one hand while I stuffed my face with a sweet ass rice cake with the other. All I can say is that Makoto fuckin' _owes_ me for keeping his boyfriend's side snatch on the DL when I could have been showing Rei the thermodynamics of my folks' jacuzzi, if you know what I'm saying. 

Anyway, night was done, I sold some rock to some preteens who don't know it's cut with sugar, and then I started to walk my honey home. And he was going on about deductions and equations and elementations or some kind of Matlock shit, and that was when I grabbed him by his butterfly sleeve and pulled him into the alley, My Alley, the alley reserved for Nagisa's Ho's Only, and straight up told him he was dancing around with my heart like the world's worst salsa and I was about to die without some of his particular brand of sweetness. Then just when he started opening and shutting his perfect little mouth like a fish with glasses and hair the color of slushies and my take of the night really kicked in, I stick my tongue down his throat and my hand up his bargain-bin yukata.

Now, there are different brands of novice pieces. Some, they get all huffy after you go for broke like you just called their family shrine a pet rock collection and you got no chance. Others start twitching and heating up and you got to spend ten minutes talking about their families before you can even take another run at first base. Tell the truth, I was thinking my track honey would be in the daddy-told-me-to-play-sports camp.

So imagine my surprise when his first little jump suddenly turned into all hands on deck and he was pushing _my_ ass into a very familiar brick wall while making sounds like he was drowning. It'd be cute, how into it he was, if I wasn't distracted by those damn Spiderman-type muscles getting all up in my business. Call me Mary Jane and smoke me, but I am _hooked_ on this sweet thing.

You want to know the full run down, you come back with publishing rights, but suffice to say I woke up barely sober drooling on sculpted abs with his glasses crooked on my drug mule teddy bear, so. Long story short, that's why he's my emergency contact. 

But if it's bail money you want, prob'ly still start with Dave.


End file.
